The Last Laugh
by kateofallpeople
Summary: "Great, then. My confession. Fred was in love with you." The laughter settled a little of the tension, but not all. It wasn't far from her suspicions anyway. When Hermione gets a chance to talk to Fred from beyond the dead, he reveals much more than that.


**AN: Okay, so I was sitting around thinking about things and naturally HP came to mind. I was thinking about the final battle, and all of the things that were left unsaid not only by the books and films, but also by the characters in them. I'm writing this first one-shot and I'll probably write more like this after it, it's been a topic on my mind for a while now. Anyway, premise for this one is Hermione/Fred, set four months after the final battle, at the Burrow. Hermione finds out how Fred really felt, and in an interesting turn of things, gets a chance to talk to him. Enjoy! And remember to review!**

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><p>"Should I even bother?"<p>

He was pointing up the rickety staircase towards the floors above them, and Hermione couldn't help but think in that moment just how different he was from his brother.

"Probably not. They've been up there how long?"

"Twenty. Twenty five max."

"Yeah, leave them to it, while Molly's out."

George grinned at her, and it was that same devilish grin she'd seen so many times before, but in such different contexts and on such a different man. "Alright then." He looked up, away from her, pointing his voice towards the upper floors. "Potter! Be good to my sister up there!"

Vaguely, from two floors up, the pair thought they could hear Ginny shouting something angrily about not being bothered. Laughing, they left the new couple to their business, and George led Hermione into the sitting room, where Ron was waiting, playing a round of Exploding Snap with Charlie, who was down for the month.

"Boys, we've got a _girl _joining us tonight, since Potter's out."

"And what's that for?" Ron looked put out. Hermione knew to not take it personally - Ron was used to boys night on Fridays. He was used to Harry being there for their various card games, chess, drinking, and whatever other trouble they could get themselves into. Bill would apparate in the for the night, and even Percy had been known to drop in when he could, drinking as much and swearing as much as the rest of them. Hermione had only heard stories, but she imagined she'd find it funny if she saw it, one day. It was this initial curiosity that had driven her to stop by the Burrow on her way home from work, only to find that Percy wasn't off yet, and wouldn't be arriving til past eleven.

"Harry's busy." George pointed upstairs but Ron, thick as ever, didn't pick up on the hint.

"With what?"

"With Ginerva."

"Oh." The room stood still for a minute, until Hermione cleared her throat.

"I just thought I'd stop by."

"Of course! Drop in. We're almost done with our game." Charlie smiled, patting the spot next to him on the couch, opposite the two chairs that held Ron, and now George. She sat beside Charlie, watching the game intently until it ended, and then waiting while George pulled out a separate deck and dealt the cards out for Poker.

"Alright boys, you know the rules. Hermione I'll let you in - we play for drinks, we bet with drinks, and it's actually just an excuse for us to be competitive and drink. I almost always win, everyone else ends up wobbly, and I drink to make up for it anyway. Deal?"

"No rules dealing with the actual game, then?" She smirked.

"Not at all. What kind of family do you think you're visiting?"

The four roared into laughter, and the cards were dealt, and the bottle of good firewhiskey accio'd from Ron's room. He poured a bit into each of four glasses, and Hermione suddenly wondered what she'd gotten herself into. "Really, boys, this isn't necessary..."

"Oh, yes it is." George wasn't going to let her live this down. "You're here, you're playing. And we haven't even gotten to the best part! Whoever wins the round, the rest of us have to say something we've heard or thought about you, that's surprising. For instance, I heard last week that Ron's first snog was that twat Lavender Brown, and I thought he'd had snogged you before then, and we all had a good laugh before Bill admitted he thought Ron had a temper problem."

Charlie laughed. "Yeah, that was a good one. Then he poured the rest of his drink and his ice down Bill's shirt front."

Ron flushed scarlet, but smiled. His temper wasn't exactly a secret, but it was never really a problem - it was more a problem with being stubborn, that Ron had. He smiled at Hermione, and she gave him one in return. They'd been doing moderately well recently, but they definitely weren't at the same level as Harry and Ginny. Hermione hadn't even slept with Ron, didn't plan to for a while, they were both... well, virgins, and not ready to commit to that yet. Or at least, she wasn't.

The first round went to Charlie - to which she confessed she liked his tattoo on his bicep most, and the rest of the group gave a great whoop and a cheer, as they did their own confessions. The second went to Ron, in which Hermione let on that she had finally heard from Harry the story of how Ron had accidentally taken the love potion in their sixth year. Charlie hadn't heard this one yet, so Ron had to go through and explain the harrowing experience of almost dying because he'd been given a love potion, not because someone had tried to poison him intentionally. George found this hilarious, and play continued.

Hermione, a lightweight by nature, found herself feeling warm already. Three rounds later, once what she'd later refer to as 'officially buzzed', she found herself with a stroke of excellent luck - a really great hand of cards. She had no skills when it came to keeping a poker face, and flatout laughed when she won the round.

"Oh, this is going to be a good one, bookworm." George rubbed his hands together wildly, smiling like a mad man. Oh, she was scared now. And warm. Very warm. Bill smiled, and Ron looked terrified.

"Ron, you're up first then." George was purposefully letting himself take the last turn. Ron, nervously and in a moment of pure panic, mumbled something about Harry.

"'Scuse us, baby brother, you're going to have to speak up!"

"I said, it took me so long to work up the courage to tell you how I felt, because I thought you were in love with Harry." The group had a good laugh at that, and Hermione had to comment that he hadn't been the only one - too many people had thought she'd had a crush on her best friend. As if!

Charlie looked thoughtful for a moment, and when he finally spoke, Hermione blushed. "When my brothers first came home and spoke about you, I was imagining someone a lot more... well, troll-looking. Obviously, that's not true." He finished his confession with a hefty drink. Hermione noted inwardly that Charlie had been visiting much more often since... since Fred's funeral. He'd been sticking very close to his family.

The funeral - gods, hadn't that seemed like ages ago? Just days after the battle, a mass funeral was held at Hogwarts, honoring the dead. It lasted hours, and many spoke about the losses and accomplishments of those in the numerous caskets. It was gruesome, but McGonagalls speech at the end was what had made them all think that really, life would go on. She'd cried throughout it, which didn't help her point, but it meant all the more that way. Afterwards, private services were held for those who were identifiable. The Weasleys held one for Fred, and it had been well attended. It wasn't as difficult to speak about him now as it was then. George's eye still held a tear whenever a particularly good memory was brought to attention, but he firmly believed in remembering Fred fully after his death. He hadn't exactly opened the shop back up yet, but it was a start.

Hermione remembered so much about Fred in his life - always the leader, a little more headstrong. George, who was quieter and a little kinder at times, hadn't gotten over the loss of his brother, and he never really would, anyone could tell you that. Where Fred had been more courageous - getting a date to the Yule Ball, really pushing George to start the joke shop, and etc - George had been the second to speak. Fred was a wondrous person, and Hermione remembered many a day in the summer after their sixth year that he'd taken a particular interest in making jokes at her or for her, something she'd appreciated greatly and also been a little embarrassed by. She hadn't thought Fred noticed her half as much as he did, but he was always willing to put a foot forward and make sure an extra eyebrow-raise was given in her direction after any perverted joke or line. They'd gone on a handful of walks together through the hills, laughing and relaxing a bit, with him talking plenty about business and the joke shop and expanding and... speaking of...

"Alright then, Hermione. My turn." George, intoxicated, began to giggle. "You're going to love this. And he's not even here to back himself up, as I know he would... this is for you, Freddy." He kissed the top of his fingers and flicked them skyward, a gesture she'd seen him do whenever he'd been talking about Fred lately. "Hermione, something that might surprise you, that you definitely didn't know before because he only ever told me... Fred used to be completely head over heals for you. Gaga about you. Whispered your name in his sleep, once..."

"Rubbish! George Weasley, don't even start..."

"It's true! Told me himself, after the whispering thing last summer."

"You're lying."

"Swear it I'm not."

"Oh, whatever." Hermione smiled, taking a little drink though she'd won her right not to.

"Don't believe me then."

Ron, silent, was shaking his head slightly, looking rather displeased. Hermione had to hold in a bit of laughter. Ron was obviously not happy with what George had said, and yet it didn't matter, anyway. It was probably just a joke. Charlie, though, looked rather pleased, and nodded his head.

Another few rounds passed, and George called time for a break. Hermione, feeling a little odd since she'd won that round, headed outside for some fresh air. Ron stepped up beside her. "Want some company?"

"Not now, actually. Just some air and some quiet."

"Alright, you." He grinned, reaching down to squeeze her hand briefly, and she smiled. Ron was sweet, in his own shy little way, and she loved every bit of it. He'd kiss her goodnight and probably apparate home with her and then back, just to make sure she got in okay. He was, surprisingly, a complete gentleman. She stepped outside at last and the warm summer night pulled her in completely. The stars overhead were numerous, and the scent of freshly cut grass and plants growing in the hills and the little trickle of a new pond made her close her eyes and simply breathe in. She walked forward until the point where she knew she'd find a few rocks that had been next to a small thicket of trees for as long as she could remember, and opened her eyes only long enough to sit down and rest her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands.

"Oh, Fred, you... you idiot. Why'd you have to go and get yourself killed? Was what George said true, after all? I mean... of course I'd had a silly, teenage crush on you, but... I never thought you'd felt the same. The jokes and everything... I thought you were being friendly, since I'd been especially moody that summer. I thought that was it. Was there more to it? Is George just poking fun at me?"

"If Georgie's poking fun at you, I'll haunt him a little, scare him a bit." Hermione jumped, recognizing the change in tone between George, who had been last searching for another bottle of liquor, and Fred - who, upon turning, she saw. Sort of. It wasn't his ghost - it was something different than that, she could tell right away. But how? And why?"

"F-Fred?"

"Don't you worry about my idiot twin in there. He may be older by sixteen minutes but he's none the wiser."

"How are you here? What are you?" She looked around them in a complete circle but saw nothing - no trick of the light, nothing at all. He grinned at her.

"Pretty nifty, huh?" He dusted himself off, stepping forward into the moonlight. Now she could see a little better - she could see through him.

"Fred, you're... you're here."

"In the flesh - well, not actually in the flesh. That worked out much better in my head. And you're here, sitting on this rock in my backyard. Do you remember when we sat on this rock, last summer?"

Instantly, she did. It was a particularly late July night. She missed her parents, she was angry with Ron, and she was angry with Harry for siding with him. She'd come outside to think and Fred, diligent as ever, had followed her out here and sat right down beside her, not leaving until she felt better. That should have been clue number one. "I do."

"And the talk we had? And the walks, and the jokes?"

"Yes."

"Do you know why I'm here, Hermione?"

"Not at all."

"I've got some unfinished business to attend to." Hermione looked at him, puzzled, and he laughed. "There, now _that _worked out well. Got your attention, at least." He had been leaning up against another tree until that point, and it was now that he stepped closer to Hermione, until he was just a foot away. "Every once in a while, someone gets to come back. Just for a few minutes. Just to take care of something unfinished. And I've been given that right."

"I don't understand."

"Of course you don't. You're not dead. Duh." He knocked against his own head with his fist, and smiled at her. She'd missed that smile - somehow, there was something different about it than George's. "Anyway, those little things Georgie has been doing, kissing his hand like a girl and shooting it my way - I feel it. It sends me a little zap, saying he's been talking about me. Under no circumstances, however, am I allowed to use this visit for family. Do you understand? They can't even know that I've been here, really, unless you choose to... relay a message."

Hermione said nothing, only marveled at the man before her. He was here, but he wasn't. He was here because of some business - but not with anyone in the house. He was here, then, for her.

"You see, Hermione - I'm not a ghost. Never a ghost. I'd thought that everything in my life was settled, when I died. George would still run the shop. The family would have one less loud-mouthed ginger. The world would keep on turning. But... tonight, something happened. Tonight, when George said my name, sent me that shock, and confessed to you that _I'd _confessed to _him_ that I'd loved you... I knew I had to come here. I knew I had to see you."

He stepped ever closer, and in a moment, she could tell why this piece of Fred wasn't a ghost. Ghosts, when they passed through you, were cold - like stepping outside underdressed in the middle of winter. Fred's hand, though not solid, felt like a warm breeze against her cheek. There were no leaves rustling. It was all him.

"It wasn't a rumor, Hermione. It wasn't a lie. It wasn't a joke, or George messing with you... and to be honest, I'm glad he told you, so that I could come down and speak to you one last time."

The realization that this was true hit her hard. She'd been blessed with a visit from him - but at a cost. All the time she'd spent mourning him in the past months, the time she'd spent feeling better afterwards... she'd have to go through it all again. And potentially, worse.

"It wasn't rubbish, Hermione. After that night I followed you out here, halfway into that summer... after three previous walks, and a few passed notes during breakfast, and more than enough late night conversations, alone under the stars... I fell for you. And I dreamed about you, and whispered your name in my sleep. George woke me up, looking like he'd won something, and I knew I'd been talking in my sleep - terrible curse, been doing it for years, got me into trouble a few times. And he finally got one over on me, after years of me usually doing all the winning. And he said, he said 'Freddy. Guess what?' And I said 'I was talking in my sleep, wasn't I?' And he says 'Yes, naughty boy. And what were you dreaming about?' And I knew I couldn't lie to him - he's my twin, he'd be able to tell anyway. Freaky twin thing. And so I say it, just like I've said your name every time since then, with a hint of adoration and schoolboy crushing - 'Hermione. Just... Hermione.' And he let me go back to sleep and teased me ruthlessly about it up until... well, even a few days before the final battle, he'd been making fun of me for it."

"Oh."

She suddenly felt as if the world had stopped spinning - every star in the sky above was reaching down, trying to listen to their conversation, to what was about to be said next.

"I can't stay long, Hermione. I'm sure you can guess that. But I had to... I had to come say this to you."

"I'm glad you did. Fred, you must have known how I felt, I was young, and it was a complicated time, but still..."

"I knew. In the way your cheeks went pink when I complimented you, or the way you looked at me like I was your savior when I stole you away after another frightening Weasley family dinner. I think I knew the whole time." He stepped back now, looking shy for the first time that Hermione had ever seen him. This image, this visit from Fred... she'd remember this night for the rest of her life, not just because it was a visit from the dead, not just because of what she'd heard, but because of how he'd said it. He wasn't shy or ashamed in the slightest. He'd had real, honest-to-Merlin feelings for her. And he had wanted to tell her, even beyond the grave. He looked skyward.

"My time's about up. Tell Georgie and Charlie and Ron I said hi, and Gin and Harry too. Moving along quick, aren't they? Tell George to stop blundering around and open up shop again, we're about to lose a whole shipment's worth of trick sweets and it'll cost him loads. Tell him he can have my bloody desk chair if he wants it so bad - always did. And my music collection. He hasn't touched it, I'm not sure why. Tell Ron I'm proud of him - never got to. And tell my mum... tell mum I love her. Dad, too. The rest of the family. I'm not supposed to let you do these things but... I'm Fred Weasley. They didn't think they could limit me with a few silly rules, did they?" He winked at her, stepping close.

"And lastly, Hermione, is for you... this message is yours. I loved you. I did. But I can't anymore... and there's somebody in that house with... well, a brain of fluff and a heart of gold." He smiled at her, and the stars seemed to shine brighter. "I'm joking. Ronnie's a good boy, and he's got a good head on his shoulders, usually. He'll take care of you. And I want you to be happy with him - really happy with him. Have little ginger babies and make sure they're not as daft as their father... and take care of yourself. You're... you're brilliant, in every form of the word."

"Fred, don't go, please..."

He laughed then - a true Fred Weasley laugh, the last one she'd have to remember. "I have to, silly girl. But I love you. I do."

"I love you too, Fred. Even if that faded and changed into something different, there's always going to be something there."

He raised a hand and placed it on her chest, and the feeling of a warm draft came up where his hand would have touched her. "Then keep it there. As long as you wish."

She raised a hand to try and do the same, but he wasn't solid. She kept her hand up anyway. He leaned in and she closed her eyes, he kissed her once swiftly on the lips, then the forehead.

"Goodbye, Hermione."

"Goodbye, Fred."

When she opened her eyes, he was gone again - but she didn't cry like she thought she might. Instead, she smiled. She'd always wondered what might be said if she'd gotten to see him one last time. And now she had. And in payment for George making fun of her, she was about to let him find out in the best way. She walked quickly back inside, sat back down beside Charlie, and let play resume. George won the next round - perfect. She was first.

"Let's see, George Weasley... something I've heard about you. You were always jealous of Fred's chair in the shop. And speaking of, you need to open up again or you'll lose a whole shipment of sweets. Also, you haven't touched his music collection, even though he thought you would."

The three men around her - and the couple creeping down the stairs behind them - gasped collectively.

"How... how did you know that stuff?" George was eying her curiously.

"Fred told me."

"How?"

"I don't really know, actually. He... he visited me. Almost like a ghost."

"When? Why didn't you tell me before?"

"It only just happened, while I was outside... and he's not supposed to appear to family members. He wasn't even really supposed to come see me. But that thing you've been doing, when you point at the sky... he feels that. He gets it, like a jolt. And he heard what you said."

"And?"

"And he came down to confirm it. And to tell me a few things." She smiled, and the tears finally came. "He told me... he told me everything, George."

George smiled, but tears were in his eyes too. "All of it?"

"Everything."

"Good. Lousy arse... never told you before."

They laughed, and Harry and Ginny came the rest of the way into the sitting room. Everyone looked astonished. She wouldn't tell them about the kiss, or anything else. Only the messages he'd wanted her to deliver. And so she told those who were present, swearing to remember to tell the rest of the family (not that she'd ever forget). Harry and Ginny went back upstairs, visibly shaken, and Charlie followed them up. Ron and George moved to sit on either side of her, smiling, each of them holding her hand.

"I can't believe I saw him. I'm almost still convinced it was a dream."

"He really told you to tell me to open shop back up?"

"He did. And Ron... he said he was proud of you. That he regrets not having the chance to say it to you before he... he died."

Ron nodded, blushing red.

"In the mean time, boys, I need some sleep... today really changed things for me. Big night."

George nodded, hugging her tight. He whispered, just low enough for her to hear. "He told you he loved you?"

She whispered back, lower if possible. "Yes. Everything about it. And George... he really misses you too."

George nodded, releasing her. Ron helped her up and held her arm. "I'll be back, George. Taking her home." With a last nod, they were off, standing in Hermione's bedroom in her tiny flat. Living with her parents would have been difficult - even after their memories were restored, they'd decided to stay in Australia. It would be a nice vacation, every once in a while, but Hermione belonged in London with her friends.

"You okay, Hermione?"

"I.. I don't know."

"Was it true, then? He loved you?"

"Yes... but he told me something. Ron. He told me... he told me to go back inside and be with you, and make us both happy. He told me to have little ginger babies with you and ignore your temper issues when I could, because... he said because you've got a head of fluff but a heart of gold." They both chuckled at this one - no truer statement could be made about Ron Weasley.

"I see... yeah, Fred was always really supportive actually. He's the one who told me, when I first saw him the day of the final battle... he said 'go for it, little brother. it's now or never.' and he pointed at you. And I knew then, that I had to."

"He meant it, too. About being proud of you."

"I know. He's my brother. You alright then? I know you have work in the morning..."

"Not until twelve. It's Friday. And... will you stay?"

"What?"

"You heard me. Will you stay? I'm not... you know what I mean. Not like that, not yet. But will you stay the night with me?"

The smile on Ron's face grew slowly, but it grew large. "Yeah. Of course I'll stay. Nothing a little good-natured body heat and cuddling can't calm down."

"Exactly. I love you, Ron. Know that. I did love Fred once, but that was then. This is now. He... he wanted us to be together. He told me so himself. You're here. He's not."

Ron nodded, still smiling, stripping down to his boxers. Hermione changed into pyjama shorts and a tank top, sliding into bed next to him. His arm fell over her waist just so, and he was tall enough that he could fit in behind her and still have feet hanging over the edge of her short bed and his head up a little above hers. He kisser her neck, her ear, her hair, before finally leaning up to lean over and kiss her lips, slowly and sweetly. This was it. She loved Fred, but she couldn't have him. And it wasn't as if Ron was only second best - no, Ron was something completely different. Fred had been a schoolgirl crush, some teenage feelings. But Ron, Ron she'd be with her whole life. And besides, Fred would always be watching over, proud as ever.

"Goodnight, Fred." She whispered. Ron caught on.

"Goodnight, Fred."

Hermione could swear that she heard, in a whisper of a breeze outside her open window, a low, smooth voice.

_Goodnight, you two. _


End file.
